


Games

by yeaka



Category: Christmas Tales & Traditions
Genre: Furry, Holidays, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:08:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28575774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: A moment on a rooftop.
Relationships: Donner/Vixen
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Games

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own... mangled Christmas lore? or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Santa’s moving slow this year, which is all well and good, until the second Vixen bends over the chimney to peer inside.

All at once, Donner’s attention snaps forward. He forgets his previous train of thought, stops feeling the cold snow around his hooves, isn’t annoyed anymore that it’s still coming down in light flecks that get caught in his antlers and the fur of his broad shoulders. The cool night air isn’t enough anymore to keep him centered, keep his temperature down, and suddenly the thick harness across his chiseled chest is too constricting, because he’s breathing too hard. That’s all it takes. One little movement. Vixen’s legs go ram-rod straight, his cute little tail flicking up, and he drapes himself so flat across the brick that his back arches down, ass thrust in the air, and all Donner can think is _what a fantastic ass_.

He spent most of the last year thinking that. Some of the year before. And he dreaded this night for it, because it’s one thing to be attracted to another man sleeping in the paddock or barn and frolicking about the whole of the North Pole, and quite another to a get stiffy while physically chained to eight other men with their master for a witness. His only solace is that Santa’s still inside, and maybe by the time he climbs back up, Vixen won’t be spread out like a doe ripe for the taking. 

Comet’s on his left and pretending to notice the large cedar tree in the yard of the property, but Donner’s fairly certain every one of his colleagues has noticed the swell of his cock rising between his thighs. He can’t help it. He can’t believe they’re not _all_ staring, not at his impressive girth but Vixen’s glorious rear end. With his tail in the air and his legs spread enough to part his cheeks, there’s nothing shielding Donner from a full view of his tight pink asshole, furrowed beneath the white fur that interrupts his otherwise rich brown hide. That particular patch of white has always been a problem for Donner, but it’s much worse when he can actually see Vixen’s hole clenching, his thighs tense in an effort to keep him prone. They’re all muscular, have to be for their job, and it’s led to Vixen having a bubble butt just about as inviting as they come.

Vixen’s ears twitch as his eyes search the cavernous pit below. It’s always hard to see down chimneys, because Santa never descends the lit ones. Donner can’t imagine why Vixen’s even trying. It’s not unusual for Santa to get waylaid with milk and cookies, especially if the homeowner’s left out rice milk and gingerbread. 

Then one of Vixen’s knees bends, and his ass tilts to the side, tail still erect. His hole dilates open for a fraction of a second, enough to send a jolt of heat through Donner’s body. He’s hyper aware of the straps connecting him to Vixen, fastened to the harnesses framing their breasts. One little tug on the red string, and Vixen would be sucked right back onto his cock, tight and hot and perilously sweet—

Vixen flexes the other way, and Donner realizes with a horrifying start that Vixen’s deliberately _shaking his ass._ There’s no other explanation. He’s _taunting_ Donner. Donner casts a helpless look aside, but Comet’s pretending he doesn’t notice. Cupid’s blowing into the fur of his palms and looking nowhere in particular. Donner can’t bring himself to check behind them for the other four. He wonders vaguely if Prancer ever stares at his ass and how far they are from one big orgy. It’d be one hell of a Christmas present.

Vixen abruptly backs up from the chimney—perhaps he did see Santa ascending. Except he takes one more step than he has to, and he walks right into Donner’s erect cock—it slides up between Vixen’s silk-soft cheeks and nestles there, his tail drooping over the head. A violent tremble wracks through Donner, and for a moment, he’s sure he’s going to snap, going to lose himself in how wildly handsome Vixen is from behind, and he’s going to grab Vixen’s hips and shove himself inside hard enough that Vixen’s cries will wake the whole neighbourhood below.

Then Santa’s beige sack appears over the edge of the chimney, and Vixen hurriedly steps back into place. Their straps draw tight. Donner half wishes they were muzzled so he couldn’t do anything else, but they’re not and he can’t help himself—he darts out and licks a wet stripe over the nape of Vixen’s neck, right through the fur.

The sack flops onto the roof, and Santa himself climbs up. Donner’s already in place again like nothing ever happened. He pretends not to see the smirk on Comet’s face. He pretends he doesn’t notice Vixen shivering, wrapping both arms around himself and pinching his thighs together. His tail twitches, practically wagging like one of the slave-dogs they sometimes see through windows. 

When Santa mounts the sleigh, it all ends—if they’re ever going to devolve into an orgy, it won’t be before their master. At least, Donner doesn’t think so. Vixen finally lets his tail fall again and visibly takes a long breath, straightening, squaring his shoulders as though nothing ever happened. Except they both know it did. Donner’s crush practically waved a green light in his face. 

Santa’s reindeer have no need of lights. They leap off the roof at once, flying to the next, and Donner does his best to keep his head in the game for it and not the hot buck before him.


End file.
